


Speaking is Silver

by misura



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Conrad decides to stay behind and make a new life for himself.
Relationships: James Conrad/Kong (Legendary | MonsterVerse)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Speaking is Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



Conrad watched the helicopters until they passed into the storm front, waiting for the moment when he'd realize that he'd made a mistake, that he didn't want to stay behind all by himself after all, _stop, come back, I changed my mind_.

Kong huffed. Conrad felt his breath like a gust of wind.

"You're right. They wouldn't hear me anyway," he told Kong, who stared down at him.

Conrad wanted to believe the expression on Kong's face was affectionate, but he'd been a guide long enough to know it was dangerous to ascribe human emotions to animals. (Also, from time to time, to humans, but that was another matter entirely.)

"So. Think they'd have me in the village?" he asked Kong.

Kong snorted and turned away, ambling off as if he washed his hands of the entire matter.

Conrad spent about ten seconds feeling let down, then set off in the direction of the Iwi.

As it turned out, the Iwi were indeed happy, or at least willing, to welcome him to their community.

Conrad got a hut to himself. Food and clothes appeared from day to day, yet nobody seemed to expect him to make any sort of contribution, to take a turn weeding the communal garden, or digging a new latrine, or whatever other daily tasks there were.

The - might as well call it a 'temple', Conrad supposed, was getting a new panorama, depicting Kong's final battle to defeat 'the Big One'.

Conrad tried to offer to help: it seemed interesting, and perhaps a way to find out more, to get a better grip on what was expected, what was encouraged and what was allowed, but he couldn't seem to make himself understood, so after a few hours, he gave up.

"Bored yet?" Conrad asked. "I mean, I can't speak from personal experience, but, well. You won."

Kong sniffed.

Conrad remembered that Kong had had parents once: a family. Others of his kind.

He'd probably never thought he'd lose that, that he'd end up finding himself alone and abandoned, and wondering what he could have done to prevent that, to stop the bad things from happening - _my fault they're dead; if only I'd been more -_

One of Kong's fingers pushed at him. It felt like an almost-hug, a near-tackle. A warm and solid body colliding with his, except that it wasn't.

"All right, all right, I can take a hint," Conrad said.

The Iwi worshiped Kong as their god. They viewed Kong as their protector: infallible, strong, unbeatable.

Conrad wondered how he could stand it.

Kong groaned, and then he walked away again, leaving Conrad to wonder if it was something he'd said.

The Iwi did not speak. They worked together, they lived together; they _communicated_. They simply didn't use words to do it.

It took some getting used to. Conrad had learned languages before; first when he'd been in the Special Forces, to be more effective, to be able to understand the difference between his enemies calling him names and his enemies giving him valuable information because they thought he couldn't understand them. Then, later, as a guide and a wanderer. Speaking the local language had always been a huge advantage, and one Conrad had been eager to claim for himself.

He liked to think he was good at it, good with languages, perhaps even good with people.

He couldn't seem to master the Iwi's way of speaking, though. He tried observing; he tried cornering one of them to practice on. Neither worked.

They, on the other hand, seemed able to understand him with perfect clarity. His practice partner patiently sat staring at him for at least an hour, possibly two. Conrad tried a number of languages, even though he already knew it was hopeless; he tried hand gestures, and drawings in the dirt.

The drawings did get a response, but it was kindly, polite: an adult, indulging a child by looking at its clumsy attempts at art, offering praise by way of encouragement, and because it was expected.

He drew Kong last, mostly to see if that at least got a response.

His practice partner smiled at him, then patted his hand and walked away.

Absurdly, she reminded Conrad of Kong.

"What am I even doing here?" Conrad wasn't unhappy. He felt calmer, more at peace than he'd felt in a long time, perhaps since he'd waved goodbye to his father - or a little after that, perhaps: he'd lain awake in bed, the lighter in his hand even though his mother had told him not to do that, because it wasn't a toy, it was dangerous.

He'd thought of all the things he'd tell his father when he got back, all the stories his father would tell _him_ , of daring rescues and heroic feats and how the bad guys would always lose because the good guys always won and went home to their families.

It had taken a while for reality to set in, for him to realize that the danger of lying in bed with a lighter was nothing compared to the danger of being a soldier, and a hero, and one of the good guys.

Kong nudged him from the side.

Conrad wanted to lean against the touch, to close his eyes and imagine he was young again, and innocent, and convinced that doing the right thing meant never having to worry about dying.

Kong nudged him again, his skin warm against the side of Conrad's face.

It was better than a hug, Conrad decided, even if it still left him wanting more. More contact, more warmth, more of Kong's sounds and attention and -

Kong moved his hand. Not gone entirely; not as if he was disgusted or offended. More like he was teasing, daring Conrad to follow, to be the one to take the next step.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Conrad said. Mostly to himself, given that there was no way Kong would be able to understand him when Conrad wasn't even able to communicate successfully with the Iwi, who were at least human. Probably.

Kong pushed him - softly enough that Conrad could fall over without getting hurt, but firmly enough that falling over was inevitable.

Conrad stared up at the sky, the trees. At Kong.

 _Not a good idea,_ he repeated to himself, and Kong moved his finger over Conrad's body again. He was fully dressed; it wasn't as if was all that intimate, let alone erotic. Arousing.

_Not a good idea at all._

Kong's finger pressed down a little.

Conrad heard himself moan. It was rather embarrassing, even if Kong seemed more curious than put off, like he was just experimenting, seeing how Conrad responded to -

_Definitely not a good idea._

Kong bared his teeth.

Conrad reminded himself that it was dangerous to assume you knew what someone was feeling or thinking based on their facial expression. If it felt like Kong was amused, that did not mean it was true.

If Conrad felt like Kong was teasing him, that did not mean it was true, either.

Kong moved his finger over Conrad's body again. Lying down, it felt - well.

Perhaps there was some truth to his feelings after all.

(They showed him the panorama once it was done. They were all there: Mason and Packard and the others; the fire and the guns, the dead and the living - and Conrad, carried off by a triumphant Kong.)

("You do know it didn't happen that way, don't you? At all," Conrad said. He had to admit it made a nice story: 'and then our god defeated the Big Bad for good and lived happily ever after with someone special' but it wasn't the truth. It wasn't _real_.)

(The Iwi stared at him, quiet and silent and endlessly patient.)

**Author's Note:**

> they're telepaths/empaths, Jimmy
> 
> happy Yuletide, sweetcarolanne, and I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
